He took another drag on the cigarette and leaned against the bar rail. It was midnight, maybe later -- far too late, in any event, to be wearing sunglasses, but he hoped they made him look at least slightly cool. It was his first road trip. He'd been married - and happily so -- for fifteen years. His wife was a great woman. He fell in love with her because she made the best corn muffins he'd ever eaten, and that alone was reason enough. Yes, she was also pretty and considerate and supportive, and that just made the package even sweeter. When he got the his hotel and opened his suitcase, he found a couple of muffins, boxed in a small plastic container. He set them on the bureau, changed clothes, and hit the bar. He'd been waiting for this trip for weeks, months. It was the first time the company was sending him out alone, and he was thrilled by the excitement of it all. Other guys came back with tales of wild women and drunken orgies, and even though he loved his wife very much, he kept wondering What was it like? Now he could find out. The music was loud, so much so that he was having trouble hearing anything else. And everyone seemed so young, some barely older than his eldest daughter. Was this what she did on weekends? he wondered. He hoped not. Then he saw her. Pretty. About 25. Legs that went to her neck and long, luxurious hair he wanted to drown in. Barbara used to have long hair like that, until he came home one afternoon and discovered she'd cut it all off. This girl would never cut hers off, he knew it, not the way she kept tossing it around. She was talking to three other girls, friends. A girls' night out, to have a few laughs and maybe a hook-up they could talk about over lunch the next day. And he suddenly realized that was all he wanted. Just a hook up. A chance to say he still had it when it came to the ladies. Something he could brag about with the guys back at the office. He really, really wanted this. He loved his wife, no question. And he knew how wrong this was. She'd never been unfaithful to him, not once in fifteen years, and he felt a slight pang of guilt as he realized that he too had never once acted on the impulse, even though the opportunity had afforded itself several times: the secretary in accounting who smiled at him a lot, the assistant manager at his biggest client's flagship store, the personal trainer who always seemed to be at the gym the same time he was. But he never did anything about them, because he loved his wife so much. Maybe this wasnt such a good idea, he decided. I'll finish my drink and go back to the room and call Barbara and tell her I love her and then go to bed -- like I should. He took one last gulp of the bourbon and set the empty glass on the counter, then looked up one last time at the girl with the long legs and the long hair. She was smiling at him.